Awakenings
by Atalanta2
Summary: Deb and John take the first steps toward a deeper relationship


Awakenings By Atalanta  
  
FEEDBACK: Amazinsunflower@aol.com RATING: PG CATEGORY: JC/JMC SPOILERS: The Greatest of Gifts DISCLAIMER: The characters of ER do not belong to me, they belong to Warner Bros. I am making no profit from their use. I realize their may be instances in the story that do not "mesh" with the actual show, but I've learned to deal and so will you. Oh ya, and I refuse to call her anything but Deb. SUMMARY: A few short vignettes that chronicle John and Deb's first steps toward a deeper relationship. Story from Deb's POV.  
  
  
  
The Sea is calm to-night. The tide is full, the moon lies fair  
  
----------------------------------- -----------  
  
Monday morning found Deb attempting to sleep on an uncomfortable hospital bed with her best friend dozing beside her.  
  
A gorgeous best friend.  
  
John Carter had beautiful brown hair that stuck up at odd angles from his scalp like a porcupine after sleep. Thick and silky, it was the kind of hair that a woman would kill for, but that God had deemed fit to bless a man with instead.  
  
His pale skin was smooth and flawless, giving him an ambiguous look. Depending on how generous the observer was, his age could be pinpointed as anywhere from his early twenties to his early thirties, although his actual age was on the higher end of that scale. The only clue to his real age appearing in the form of some very slight, almost invisible, crow's feet around his eyes  
  
His eyebrows were neat, thin and just slightly darker than the hair on his head. They were almost perfectly formed, looking as if an artist had drawn them on his face with a stroke of his pen. Underneath his eyebrows rested the long, lush eyebrows that framed her favorite part his face. When he was awake, those two expressive eyes were the richest shade of brown she had ever seen. But the brown would lighten or darken depending on his mood.  
  
When he looked at her with those eyes, she swore she could see straight into his soul.  
  
His aquiline nose was thin and long, a unique asset that would have looked laughable on anyone else but fit him perfectly.  
  
His lips were thin and straight, a dusty pink color that went well with the complexion of his skin. Behind the lips sat a somewhat crooked set of teeth.  
  
Even in the darkness Deb could see those features in her mind's eye, features that she knew almost better than she knew her own. She had studied his face quiet often, watching him work, wishing for more between them.  
  
There have been times when I have looked at life From out of the eyes of sorrow, and have felt The utter loneliness of black night vigils. There have been times when I have wept hot tears And tasted of their salt And drunk the dregs of sadness to the end.  
  
--------------------------------------- --------------  
  
Nightmares bred in the darkness. The night surrounded and claimed her.  
  
She awoke suddenly and sorted dream from reality.  
  
Snaking one leg under the sheet and then pushing it upwards, she disengaged her sweat soaked body from the sheets. She closed her eyes again and let the cool night air wash over her body.  
  
Parts of the dream came back to her. It was the same dream she had been having for months.  
  
A baby sat alone in a large room bare of furniture. The baby was screaming, sobbing, crying out to her. She stood outside the room, unable to see him but somehow just knowing these things. There was a small metal door that gave entrance to the room, and she tried frantically to open it, but the door refused to move and all she could do was cry along with the baby. Suddenly John was beside her, yelling something at her that she couldn't understand.  
  
She knew that the dream extended beyond that, but only scattered bits and pieces of the latter part of the dream remained with her. She gave up trying to put them together.  
  
She hated dreaming of Michael. It was useless.  
  
She cried then, loud hiccupping cries that echoed through her lonely apartment. Cries that should have healed and refreshed her, but instead merely confirmed her weakness.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
For I have known them all already, known them all--  
  
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,  
  
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;  
  
--------------------------------------------- -----------  
  
  
  
There were little things about him that Deb held inside of her. The feel of his hand at her back, the sound of his voice, the curve of his smile.  
  
They ate dinner leisurely, filling in the time between bites and the space between them with small talk. He had done most of the talking actually, asking her little inconsequential questions about her life or commenting on the unseasonably warm weather. She listened, nodded at the right intervals, gave simple answers, content with just listening to the rhythm of his speech.  
  
Doc Magoo's was quiet at the time of night, drab even. The lights inside were dim and the moon outside was obscured by clouds. A few other customers sat alone, probably mulling over details of their own lives. The monotony was broken only every so often when waitress would appear to refill a coffee cup or hand out a bill.  
  
Deb sipped her own coffee and listened.  
  
John slowly brought his mostly one sided conversation to its inevitable end as he ran out of things to say, and he let the silence linger for a few minutes.  
  
When he spoke again his voice had softened, become more intimate. She leaned into him without thinking.  
  
"How's the baby doing?"  
  
She opened her mouth to say 'fine,' thought better of it, and remained silent.  
  
He tried again.  
  
"Deb, how are you? Are you ok?"  
  
She was tired of being independent, tired of handling it alone, and the cadence of his voice soothed her into honesty.  
  
"No..it's hard...everyday.." Her voice wavered on every note.  
  
His hand crept across the table, and he enclosed her small hand in his larger one, offering his strength.  
  
Weary of myself, and sick of asking What I am, and what I ought to be, At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.  
  
---------------------------------------------- ---  
  
Deb decided that if she were God, John would never have been stabbed and Lucy would still be alive.  
  
But she was not God, Lucy was gone, and she was left to pick up John's pieces.  
  
Sometimes he caught her watching him and he would stare back at her, unflinching, until she turned away. Other times he never noticed her silent observation.  
  
Today he was too lost in his own world to notice or care.  
  
Yesterday Paul Sobrieki had shown up at County. She'd heard about it, surprisingly, through Abby. John hadn't said a word to her about it though; in fact he had kept to himself for most of his shift. He seemed ok she supposed, just quieter than usual.  
  
Several times over the course of the day she had attempted to speak to him, only to be cut short each time by a various assortment of "I've busy right now," "I'm fine," or a  
  
cutting gesture with his hand that clearly told her to back off. God, she knew John clammed up when upset but he had never been so overtly hostile to her before. So she'd finally just given up.  
  
The last half of her shift had been busy; spend bustling back and forth between various patients, giving her little time to sort her thoughts.  
  
Finally, their shift was over. She couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.  
  
Opening her locker, she removed her lab coat and stuffed it inside, uncaring that it would be wrinkled the next day. Hearing the creaky note of the lounge door opening, she turned and saw John standing in the doorway.  
  
"Going home?" She asked quietly as he walked to his locker, made a show of carefully removing his lab coat and neatly hanging it inside. Then he slowly shut his locker, taking his good time in responding.  
  
"Yep," he finally answered his back still to her.  
  
"I was wondering...do you want to, maybe go get something to eat, or come over to my place?" He turned toward her at that and she was afraid of how old he suddenly looked. ' "Gee Deb, I'm pretty beat. I think I'll just go home and sleep."  
  
She paused, considered his refusal.  
  
"For me?" He stared at her then. She could see the gears turning behind his eyes.  
  
"Ok. But definitely not Doc Magoo's." he finally agreed. She smiled at that.  
  
He smiled in return and she thought that maybe, for awhile anyway, he could forget Lucy's face.  
  
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea  
  
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown  
  
Till human voices wake us and we drown  
  
------------------------------------------------ ----------  
  
Friday night was her apartment, some take-out, wine, and a movie. The movie (which she'd never heard of) and food (Chinese) were provided by John, the wine a gift she had received at Christmas (although from whom she couldn't recall).  
  
Halfway through the movie, Deb stopped watching, finding that it was infinitely more interested to watch John watch the movie.  
  
The light emanating from the TV played light and dark over John's face, illuminating his forehead and the hollow area under his eyes. She soon fell asleep to the vision of John painted in light and dark; her head in his lap, and his arms wrapped around her shoulders.  
  
She awoke near midnight to complete darkness and found that their positions had been disturbed as she slept. Carter's lanky form lay stretched out behind her, his arms slung around her waist.  
  
She lay there for awhile, just feeling. Then she slowly twisted her body around to face him on the coach.  
  
She gently kissed his forehead and thought that they would help each other heal.  
  
Thanks for reading. I would greatly appreciated any feedback (Amazinsunflower@aol.com), especially anyone who would like to correct any of the numerous grammatical/spellings errors I am sure to have made. The spellchecker function on Microsoft Word can only do so much.  
  
The italicized text at the beginning of each chapter are exerts from famous poems. The poems are as follows:  
  
MONDAY: exert from "Dover Beach" by Matthew Arnold TUESDAY: from "Vision" by Elizabeth N. Hauer WEDNESDAY: from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Elliot THURSDAY: from "Self-Dependence" by Matthew Arnold FRIDAY: again from "The Love song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Elliot. Because that poem, quite frankly, rocks. 


End file.
